Moment of Truth
by chibiness87
Summary: It was when his hand was raised he realised what he had been moments, seconds from doing, and he froze." Probably WAY OOC, and would never happen, but well, what if it did? GSR. M for safety, prob just high T.


**Moment of Truth by Chibiness87  
Pairing:** GSR  
**Spoilers:** Nesting Dolls  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Glad about it.

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**A/N:** You know those fics that just won't stop badgering you until they're written? This is one of them. I think it goes way OOC. A huge part of me never sees this happening in the first place. But well, what if it did? Thanks to inner-urge and butterfliedgsr for the beta, and telling me to post it already!

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It was when his hand was raised he realised what he had been moments, seconds from doing, and he froze.

Sara watched, almost comically, he dimly noted, as his face lost all colour and his limbs weakened, his hand falling to his side. If it wasn't for the counter at his back, he would have slumped to the floor. And still, Sara stood there, watching him.

He couldn't meet her gaze, eyes falling to the ground, shame and horror mixing though him. What the _hell_ had he been doing? What the hell had he been_ about _to do?!

"Feel better?"

He heard her words, but still couldn't lift his head to look at her.

"Ok. Just take a few minutes. Whenever you're ready."

There was some kind of thick fog surrounding his brain, and a buzzing in his ears. Thoughts were raging through his head, chasing each other in a violent whorl of colour and speed, meshing into one another as they continued their path.

He had…

Oh, dear god, no.

No, please, no.

Not that.

Not with Sara.

His eyes fixed on his hands, shaking now with emotion, the hate and anger he had been feeling moments before now turned to fear and self-loathing.

Her hand reached up and stroked the nape of his neck, trying to bring his head up to meet hers. But instead of doing what she was silently pleading him to do he shrugged off her hand, and turned his back to her, leaning heavily on the counter still.

Almost at once he realised his mistake. The warmth of her body made contact against his back as her arms slipped around his waist, holding him in her embrace.

He wanted to be sick.

"Sara…"

His voice cracked, and no words followed her name. He had no words to say to her… nothing he could possibly say right then would make matters better; they could only do more harm.

A faint movement was making its way into his brain, and he had to hold back a sob or a retch, he wasn't sure which, when he realised she was stroking his back, trying to calm him like so many times in the past 2 ½ years they had been together when he had been affected by cases.

The shaking of his hands had spread, and now his whole frame was trembling, adrenaline for the flight he wanted to take coursing though his body. And still, she held him against her.

"Shhh. It's ok. Shhh."

Ok?! OK?! She was telling him it was ok?! Was she insane?! He had almost hit her for fuck's sake!

It was suddenly too much for him and he made a lunge for the sink, his stomach emptying itself of its contents. But Sara still didn't leave him; still stroking his back in what would be a soothing manner, were he in any shape to be soothed.

The sound of retching gave way to dry heaves, as his body still tried to empty itself, although there was nothing else for him to expel.

The warmth at his back left him, and a small part of him wanted her to come back, while the rest of his brain was telling him he deserved to be left. Normally, he fought the voice in his head, but not today. No, today he was in total agreement with it.

So it came as a shock to him when she returned, damp face cloth in one hand, and glass of water in the other. His dry heaving had stopped, but he was still leant over the sink, muscles too weak to support him.

With a gentle hand, Sara brought his head round to face her, running the cool cloth over his skin, cleaning it of the faint sheen of sweat that had appeared during his bout of vomiting. Running it under the cold tap for a moment, she chanced a glance at his face, and he could hear her sigh when she saw he had averted his gaze once more.

This time, the cloth was on the nape of his neck, the shiver it produced travelling down his spine. When she moved to ring it out once more, Sara picked up the glass of water, handing it to him.

"Here. Swill and spit."

Grissom was on automatic pilot, doing what she told him without thought. After a couple of rinses of his mouth he set the glass down on the counter, and felt her take his hand in hers, pulling him from his perch in the kitchen to sit on the sofa in the living area.

"I…" he tried, but fell silent, the words still not there.

Sara said nothing, just sat next to him, running her fingers over the tendons of the hand that had been raised not 15 minutes before.

His eyes were downcast, and eventually focused on the movement of her. She was stroking his hand, like she had done hundreds of times before.

But this time was different.

This was the hand that had been raised.

Against her.

In anger.

He couldn't even remember what the hell they had been arguing about. But whatever it was, it didn't warrant a raised hand. _Nothing_ ever warranted that. Even if she hadn't lived her life that way for the first 12 years of her life, he had sworn to never, ever hurt her.

"Why are you here, Sara?"

He was still looking at her hand, knowing if he were to look at her in the face he would break. He was barely holding it together right then anyway. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrug slightly, and his heart cried out in pain.

This was it.

"Because where else would I be?"

His voice did break then.

"What?"

"What? You think it's the end of the world if you raise a hand once in a while?"

His face held her answer, and for the first time since the incident had happened, he met her eye.

"Gil, listen to me. I came from a family where being smacked around was the norm. I then went to being shunted from place to place until I could get away and go to collage. But even after that, I was sucked back to the West coast. The first time I felt I had a purpose in this world was when you spoke at that conference. I changed my entire life that day. _You_ changed my entire life that day."

She paused in her narrative to give him a chance to digest that, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"When you called me up to come and work for you, I didn't even think. I was on the first plane out here. And then I spent the better part of 5 years being smacked around and shunted from place to place. Not physically, but emotionally. And that hurt a heck of a lot more than the physical ever could."

His face had become pale during that statement, and she could practically see his brain thinking through those years before they were pushed by an external force, breaking the stalemate between them.

"I… Sara…"

She smiled at him, small but there.

"You didn't realise. I know. But, and listen, because it's a big one."

She waited for his nod, and when it came, she continued.

"I love you. I have _always_ loved you. When I married you, and said better or worse, I meant it. All of it. So ok, we had a fight. It happens. I dare you to show me one couple that live happily ever after. It doesn't happen. So, ok, you raised your hand. So what? You stopped."

"But I… what if…"

"Oh, believe me, if you ever do make contact I'll be out of here so fast you'll never see me go. But I know the day that happens is the day you die. And I'm not saying that as a threat or because I think you're suicidal… it's just the way you are. Hell, babe, you just threw up everything you ate in the past year. If you were to ever hit…"

"I wouldn't. God, Sara, I couldn't."

She gave a small smile at that.

"I know."

"How can you forgive me? I mean, how can you stand to be near me right now? Doesn't this remind you of your childhood?"

"Not really. My dad? He was always drunk. Or high. Or both. And my mom wasn't really all that much better. So they'd yell, and fight, and beat each other until one or both were senseless. Sometimes if things had gotten really bad we went to the hospital, but not all the time. And then a couple of days later it would start again. There was never this," she waved a hand between them; "there was never this talking, or reaction to anything."

Sara shifted so her head was lying against his shoulder. He tensed at the move, but didn't pull away, letting her rest against him.

"The day," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "the day my dad was killed, things got a little out of control." Sara gave a humourless laugh. "Well, that was obvious. I came home to find them yelling pretty heavily at each other. The things they were saying… Mom was cooking, so the knife was out on the counter. He grabbed it first. Chased her through the house.

I was hiding by this point. Mom had this really large walk-in closet. I could sit in there for hours without anyone finding me. That closet and I became firm friends fairly quickly.

"Anyway, my dad had managed to chase her into their bedroom. Stabbed her, right in the arm. They both stooped then; sort of looked at her, with this knife sticking in the muscle of her arm. He started laughing. And she joined in. Can you believe that? Both high off their heads and laughing at the picture of her with a knife in her arm.

"I guess the pain must have started seeping in then, or something. She stopped laughing, pulled the knife out, and went wild. Stabbed him, I don't know, maybe 10, 15 times? Laughing the entire time, like it was some huge joke to her. It wasn't until she ran out of energy she stopped. And then just went and bandaged her arm, like it was any other day.

"I don't know who called the cops. But I remember it took them hours to find me, huddled up in the corner of that damn closet. Longer to get me out. So that fear you have of us becoming my parents? Not going to happen."

Falling silent, Sara became aware of a small shuddering. Looking up at his face, she saw twin trails on his cheeks. The sight was enough to finally make her break, and her tears fell. His arm encircled her, bringing flush against his body, letting their strength mingle and support them both.

He pulled back, and laid a tender kiss on her temple.

"I don't deserve you, Sara."

"But you have me anyway."

"One day, I'm going to work out how I got so lucky."

She chucked a little at that.

"When you figure it out, let me know… I've never been able to figure it out."

"Sara? I am sorry. And I…"

This time she silenced him with a kiss.

"I know you're going to be beating yourself up about this for a while. And I know no matter what I say nothing will change that. I even love you a little more for it. Just remember that when you've finished the Hail Mary's and Our Fathers and whatever else you do, I'll still be here."

He nodded.

Things weren't really ok, they both knew that. Even if he spent the next 50 years treating her like the most royal of all princesses (not that she would let him…) it wouldn't be enough. But maybe, just maybe, with her by his side to help hold him together, they could put this behind them.

And they could have the happy ever after all couples were looking for; after all, every rule has an exception.


End file.
